Undue Influence
by Kallie49
Summary: Existing and extra scenes from "Sub Rosa," from Picard's point of view. P/C friendship, stays with canon.
1. Chapter 1

Story notes: I didn't originally have any intention of tackling "Sub Rosa" in a story, as the truth is, as much as I appreciate Gates McFadden's efforts in this episode, I have a tough time with the plausibility and some of the implications of it. (Yes, I know that's arbitrary, but for me, temporal causality loops and phasing cloaking devices = fine; seven-hundred-year-old anaphasic ghosts = questionable.) Nevertheless, my muse apparently had other ideas since I'm a few thousand words down the line now. For the first three scenes, almost all dialogue is Jeri Taylor and Brannon Braga's—I'm just novelizing these scenes from Picard's POV. Scenes after those will be mine.

* * *

Clenching the padd in his hand, Jean-Luc Picard moved determinedly through the _Enterprise_ corridors, hoping he wasn't too late to catch her. As the transporter room doors hissed open, he found her, dressed in a long brown skirt and floral vest, setting down her suitcase on the cargo transport pad. But instead of feeling relieved that he hadn't missed her, he felt only consternation.

Beverly Crusher flinched almost imperceptibly at the sight of him, meeting his eyes with an agitated look that disturbed him. It was clear that she hadn't wanted him to find her.

 _Too bad_. "Beverly," he said through gritted teeth, brandishing the padd and its offending message in front of him, "what the hell is this?"

She was speaking too fast, almost nervously. "I thought it was pretty self-explanatory. I'm leaving Starfleet," she said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to abandon her career of two decades without a personal word to anyone—or at the very least, to _him_. She looked behind him and rushed the word: "Energize."

"Belay that order," Picard snapped to the transporter chief over his shoulder. He turned back to regard his chief medical officer—his closest friend—with a measure of bewilderment, not sure how to even begin to have this discussion when she was being so irrational. Uncomfortable with having an audience, he lowered his voice and tried again. "Beverly. You can't just resign," he insisted.

"I can, and I have. I've decided to stay on Caldos and become a healer like my grandmother. It's a proud Howard tradition and I've decided to uphold it. Energize." At the transporter chief's hesitation, her eyes blazed at Picard. "I've resigned my commission, so unless you plan on kidnapping me...?"

He cursed inwardly. He had no intention of accepting the abrupt resignation, but it _had_ been submitted, and if she would barely even talk to him, she certainly wouldn't obey an order at this point. Mutely, he nodded an assent to the chief, and watched her shimmer out of existence in front of him.

This would not be the end of it.

* * *

"Beverly was attracted to Ronin in a very intense and—intimate way." At the counselor's choice of words, Picard turned around sharply to find that Deanna Troi looked almost apologetic, knowing the man she was speaking to. "I warned her that it was all very sudden but she didn't want to talk about it, so I let her alone. I sensed that she was holding something back, that she wasn't telling me the whole truth."

Unsurprising. She certainly hadn't mentioned anything to him. Picard's frown deepened. "Do you think this Ronin could be exerting some sort of influence over her? That it's because of him that she's staying?" It was the only thing he could think of that made any possible sense. Beverly had seemed more or less at peace with her grandmother's passing after a long, fulfilling life, and she hadn't seemed at all inclined to make drastic changes in her own life because of it, until the appearance of Ronin. Although, come to think of it, based on what the counselor was saying, Ronin hadn't "appeared" to anyone except Beverly—as far as he knew, no one else had been introduced to the man yet. It was damned odd.

"It's possible," Deanna agreed. She hesitated, then added gently, "But she may really believe she's in love with him."

The words stung, and as he turned back to stare out his ready room window at the planet below, Picard found that he rejected them out of hand. He couldn't accept that—not now, not after Kesprytt. Beverly might not have been ready to act on her feelings for him, but she _did_ have them. He knew that with a certainty. And even if he was somehow mistaken, their decades-long friendship would be more than enough consideration for her not to act in this manner. No—he simply couldn't accept that she could fall in love with someone so completely within mere days that she'd throw aside her whole career, and their friendship, without so much as a by-your-leave. The very notion was outlandish. He shook his head. "This is a rash decision, ill-considered," he said in a tight voice. "It's not like Beverly at all."

"I agree," Deanna said quietly, "but she does have the right to make that choice, even if we don't feel it's a good one."

He didn't reply to that. He usually found Deanna's counsel to be helpful, but he strongly disagreed with her now. Beverly's _right_ to make the decision was hardly the point at issue, and he was at a loss as to why the counselor thought this would somehow placate him. Or, for that matter, how it could satisfy _her_ , as Beverly's other closest friend on board. For his part, it was simply was not a decision he could, or would, accept so easily. If Beverly was going to leave, he at least wanted to understand why. She owed him that much.

The door chimed and Data entered. "Captain, Geordi and I have detected an energy residual with the same anaphasic signature as the one we found on Ned Quint's body."

He paused, glancing at Troi. "Where?"

"Approximately seventeen kilometers from the center of the colony, sir," Data replied. "It is coming from the cemetery."

He couldn't quite articulate his suspicions yet, but he was starting to feel that all of this was somehow connected. "Data, I want you to go down to the cemetery. See if you can pinpoint the source." After the android had left, Picard said grimly, "In the meantime, I would like to meet with this Ronin."

He waited for Troi to object, but when he met her solemn dark eyes, she only nodded her agreement. "Good luck, sir."


	2. Chapter 2

The night air was cool, damp, and thankfully free of the bizarre storms that had been afflicting the colony in the wake of the weather control system breakdowns. Jean-Luc Picard knocked on the wooden door of Felisa Howard's home and studied the façade as he waited for Beverly to answer. It wasn't that dissimilar from his boyhood home in La Barre, he reflected, with a sturdy construction and Tudoresque aesthetic—albeit this home was on a world far from its country of inspiration. Still, he'd never noticed this unlikely similarity in how they'd spent much of their childhoods, living in old-fashioned houses with parents, or in her case, a grandmother, who eschewed most modern technology in favor of more time-honored methods of carrying out their vocations. In the case of his father, it was tending vines; for her Nana, healing with herbs and holistic remedies...and yet, despite or because of it, he and Beverly had both chosen lives on starships, far from the land. He would have been interested to spend some time here if Beverly had invited him, and he expected she might have done so before the ship departed from Caldos—until, of course, this distressing turn of events that had been precipitated by Ronin. Whoever he was. Picard's faint smile turned to a grimace.

Not hearing any movement behind the door, he knocked again and tried the doorknob, pushing the door open cautiously when he found it was unlocked.

He didn't know what he'd expected to find, but it was most certainly not what he did find: she was reclining in her long, filmy nightgown by the fireplace, eyes closed, body moving in time to little sighs of pleasure...and no one was with her. His mouth went dry. In any other circumstance he would likely be intensely affected by the sight in front of him, but he reminded himself again: something wasn't right, about any of this. He forced himself to speak with an even tone as he tried to attract her attention. "Beverly."

Her eyes flew open and she looked at him in dismay, swallowing hard. "Jean-Luc."

"I'm sorry I startled you," he said, crossing slowly toward her. "I knocked, but there was no answer. The door was open. I hope you don't mind."

She fumbled with her robe and pulled it closed around her. She didn't even acknowledge his words, he noted, but only seemed to resent the intrusion. "What do you want?"

 _I want you to come home_. He swallowed the words, knowing she wouldn't respond well to them now, and instead kept his voice mild. "Well, I'd hoped to meet your new friend, Ronin."

She blinked rapidly, not meeting his gaze. "He's not here."

"Well, perhaps I could wait, if you don't mind." Though he was being polite, he admitted to himself that he had no intention of leaving without figuring out what exactly was going on. He couldn't fathom why she wouldn't want to share even the barest details of this relationship, if there weren't something to hide. He prodded gently. "I'm really anxious to meet this remarkable young man who swept away not just one, but two of the Howard women."

Beverly walked unsteadily toward him, gripping a candle in one hand. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Jean-Luc."

She was trying to get a rise out of him, but in such a transparent manner that he had no difficulty dismissing it. In fact, if he hadn't already understood that she was impaired somehow, the very clumsiness of the attempt to drive him away would have convinced him. Their relationship could be described in any number of ways, but "petty" was never one of them. He studied her face more carefully now in concern, noticing that her normally bright blue eyes were reflecting differently in the candlelight. "Have you changed the color of your eyes?"

She touched a hand to the side of her face, as if confused, and stammered a bit. "I just grew tired of the other color. Don't you think it suits me?"

He might have no objection to the jade hue—green always looked flattering on her—but he certainly did object to the distance and agitation he saw there, so far from her usual lucid, intelligent gaze. "I think that I preferred your eyes the way they were before," he answered, folding his arms and speaking gently. "I think I preferred _you_ the way you were before, Beverly."

He hoped his words might connect with her, but she was too much under the influence of whatever fog was clouding her mind. "Well, this is the way I am now," she said defensively. "And this is my life. I've made my decision and I'm not going to change my mind, so please leave me alone." She tried to push him towards the door.

"Oh, no, there's something's wrong here." Picard calmly but firmly resisted her weak efforts, hands gripping her upper arms as he tried to get through to her. _Come on, Beverly, this isn't you_. It was time to be more direct. "Beverly, this is more than just an obsessive love affair that has got out of hand. Tell me, why is it that no one has seen this Ronin except you?"

She stammered again, unwilling or unable to answer him, he wasn't sure... and then they both turned at the sound of footsteps on the wooden staircase. "All right, Captain. Here I am. I believe Beverly asked you to leave her alone." The tall man descending the steps looked like something out of an eighteenth-century romantic holonovel, with his knotted tie, formal vest, and heavy topcoat—not to mention perfectly coiffed hair. He was handsome enough, Picard conceded, but the overall look was oddly out of place, even in an intentional colony like Caldos. Well, if he was really from here, it would be easy enough to establish—and if he wasn't, Picard would do everything he could to make Beverly see it.

Before he had a chance to say anything, though, Beverly had rushed away from him to embrace Ronin, raising her chin in defiance at the captain as if to say, _See? I told you he was real._

 _Somehow I don't think so, Beverly._ Picard raised an eyebrow and affected a conversational tone, ignoring the direction to leave. "So, you're Ronin. It's a pleasure to meet you. Where are you from?"

"Earth. Scotland."

He smiled pleasantly. "How long have you been on Caldos?"

The younger man had little patience for even the most basic questions, it appeared. Tightening his arm possessively around Beverly, he declared, in an arch tone that was intended to conclude the discussion, "All that matters is that I'm here now, and that Beverly and I plan to be together for the rest our lives."

 _Romantic holonovel, indeed_. A bit frustrated, Picard flicked his gaze to Beverly, clinging to Ronin's side defensively. The strong woman he knew would never be this passive if the man weren't somehow controlling her and impairing her judgment. He just didn't know how yet.

His communicator beeped and his second officer's voice came across. He tapped the comm badge, keeping a focus on the man in front of him. "Go ahead, Data."

" _Captain, we have located the source of the energy residual_ ," the android reported. " _It appears to be concentrated within Felisa Howard's coffin_."

" _We'd like permission to exhume the body_ ," La Forge added.

Ronin took a half-step forward. "You can't do that. Leave her alone."

Picard eyed the taller man warily. "Why not? What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid of anything," he replied, in a wholly unconvincing manner. "But I cannot allow you to desecrate her grave."

Picard was nothing if not respectful towards other cultures' burial rituals, but he doubted Ronin had any legitimate claim on Felisa's remains—and Beverly, he realized, was silent. Was there possibly a flicker of doubt in her? She _was_ the one who'd identified the anaphasic energy signature that killed Ned Quint; she would surely want to know if something untoward had happened to her grandmother as well. Picard held Ronin's gaze and spoke into his communicator. "Data, ask Governor Maturin's permission to exhume the body. Picard out."

"I won't stand for this. I'll go to the Governor myself." Ronin projected outrage, but Picard was now confident his bluff could readily be called.

"Go on," the captain challenged him. "I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't know who you are. He'll probably have the same questions that I do. How did you get here? What ship did you come on?"

"Jean-Luc, leave him alone." Beverly was becoming increasingly agitated, but he thought, or hoped, it might be because she was conflicted that his questions were getting at the truth, since Ronin was not replying to any of them.

 _You_ know _this isn't right, Beverly._ He didn't pause, advancing on Ronin, trying to provoke the man into revealing who, or what, he really was. "Why don't you answer my questions? What ship? I'd like to look at the passenger list. Where have you been living here? What's your position? Who are your neighbors?"

Abruptly, Ronin vanished in a green mist in front of their eyes. _The anaphasic energy residue_ , Picard realized, his mind racing. That was the answer—Ronin was a manifestation of the energy. Somehow he wasn't surprised, but he was a bit alarmed. If the energy had affected Felisa Howard's body, Beverly must be affected by it, too. Even if she'd known Ronin wasn't real, he—it—would still have clouded her judgment, just as he'd seen. Did she know anaphasic energy needed organic hosts to maintain cohesion? He shuddered at the implications, but in her current state there didn't seem to be much use in explaining—she still seemed too disoriented.

He reached out urgently for her arm, determined to get them both back to the _Enterprise_ as soon as possible. "Come on, Beverly, we've got to get out of here—" Before he could touch her, he felt a painful surge of energy snap through him. Distantly, he heard her horrified cry, and then he collapsed into unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

When he came to, every part of his body aching with ferocity, Picard found Beverly hovering over him, distressed. "Come on, come on," she was whispering, hand cradling his cheek. A hypospray clattered to the wooden floor next to him.

Though everything was only just coming back into focus, he could see in her eyes that she was fighting through the anaphasic energy influence; the clarity that had been missing before was now present in her distraught gaze. _Thank God, it's you_. He swallowed, wanting to assuage her worries about him, finally managing to speak: "I'm all right." But La Forge, Data—they would be in danger like him, if Ronin wasn't stopped. Picard wasn't sure he could move at all yet, but if _she_ could make it to the cemetery, warn them somehow... "Beverly, go after him."

She wavered, searching his face for reassurance, before nodding with emotion and turning to rush out the door.

Still lying on the ground, Picard reached up to touch his communicator but heard nothing from it. Groaning, he willed himself to roll over and pulled himself up with difficulty, looking around the ground floor. Felisa had to have a computer here somewhere. He spotted a desk across the room and painfully dragged himself over to it, fiddled with the personal communications unit he found there until the indicator light glowed to show the connection.

"Picard to _Enterprise_ ," he rasped.

There was a delay, no more than twenty seconds though the wait felt agonizing, while the hailing communication was routed properly. Then: " _Riker here. Are you all right, Captain?_ " Picard heard the alarm in the younger man's voice. He must sound worse than he thought.

"Hit by the anaphasic energy," he explained. The pounding in his head made it difficult to focus on speaking. "Dr. Crusher needs help. She went to the cemetery. Data found the source there." He wasn't sure how much sense he was making, but he trusted his first officer would understand.

" _She just called, sir. We're shutting down the plasma vents in the weather control system._ "

"She needs help," he repeated, sweating. Had he made a mistake in sending her after Ronin? What if it attacked her again? _Shouldn't have let her go alone_. He wasn't in any shape to have accompanied her, but he felt a stab of guilt along with his rising anxiety. He'd been overconfident in coming here alone, even if he hadn't known Ronin's nature yet. He'd just wanted to persuade her to return...

" _Yes, sir. Data and La Forge aren't responding. We've got a team on the way down there right now._ "

He slumped against the desk, still anxious but now at least relieved that the _Enterprise_ would resolve the situation soon. And Beverly would come home.

" _Captain, hold on just a minute. I'm going to have you beamed to sickbay._ "

He nodded, though of course Riker couldn't see it. "Thank you, Number One." A few moments later, he felt the familiar tingle of the ship's transporter envelop him, and the solid walls of the Howard home dissolved before his eyes.

* * *

Beverly's quick intervention had made the critical difference, and under Dr. Selar's efficient ministrations, Picard was feeling much better soon after returning to the _Enterprise_. As the Vulcan was giving him direction only to rest for a little while, Will Riker entered sickbay with a two-person engineering team and the away team beamed back all at once. The formerly quiet ward was now awash in purposeful activity as an unconscious Geordi La Forge was lifted to a biobed and Data's prone form was surrounded. Picard tensed in concern for his officers, though he knew they would be well taken care of by their respective teams and there was little he could contribute to their efforts.

His gaze was drawn to the other figure who'd materialized. In her bare feet, nightgown, and robe, tousled red hair spilling in waves over her shoulders, Beverly looked disheveled and distressingly out of place in her own sickbay. Picard was struck by a sudden desire to pull her away, to shield her from the curious eyes of her staff until she could have a chance to collect herself...but given everything that had just happened between them, he wasn't sure if she would appreciate his sentiment or not.

As if sensing his attention on her, she looked up, her red-rimmed eyes catching his anxious ones from across sickbay. She blinked several times and he could see her struggle to contain her emotions. He slid off the biobed, intent now on going to her side regardless of his reservations—but she quickly averted her gaze again, turning away to find a tricorder to assist in treating La Forge.

He stopped, pressing his lips into a thin line but otherwise maintaining an impassive expression. After watching her a moment longer in the midst of the flurry of activity, he took a breath, squared his shoulders and turned his attention to his first officer. "Report, Number One."

She was home now. There would be time enough to talk later.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: To those I couldn't thank directly, thank you for the nice reviews! Reviews and constructive critiques are very welcome. Feedback always makes my day. The log entry at the beginning of this section comes from the episode; the rest of the scene is mine. Enjoy the ending.

* * *

 _Captain's log, supplemental. Commander La Forge and Mr. Data have recovered from their exposure to the anaphasic energy, but I am afraid Dr. Crusher's recovery will be of a more personal nature_.

Jean-Luc Picard pressed the door chime and waited for a reply. He wasn't certain it was a good idea to visit her without talking first, but he hadn't really seen her since their return several days ago and he was growing restless. Deanna, who'd gently but firmly kept him at a distance, had told him Beverly was still sorting through everything and needed time. She was clearly avoiding him in the process. He wanted to respect her privacy, but he also wanted to be reassured that she was going to be back to her usual self soon—that _they_ , however nebulous a concept that might sometimes be, would be back to their usual selves soon. He'd waited until after it was clear she would not be coming for breakfast again despite his invitation, then decided he couldn't wait any longer. He sent a brief message to the bridge and headed in her direction. She was supposed to be off-duty today, so she _should_ still be in her quarters...

A too-long moment passed and he was about to press the chime again when he heard her quiet answer. "Come in."

He came in to find her curled up on the loveseat, knees drawn up to her chest, reading something on a padd in her hand. She was dressed in a casual ivory top and tan slacks. Her long hair was pulled back into a loose knot at the base of her neck, and her eyes—which, he was relieved to confirm again, were back to their usual strikingly blue color—held a look of resignation as she looked up at him. "Hello, Jean-Luc."

He stopped just inside the door as it hissed shut, waiting for a further invitation. None was forthcoming. "Beverly. It's good to see you," he said, rather more awkwardly than he'd like. He tugged down on his uniform tunic. "I—thought I'd come see how you were doing."

She offered a wan smile, closing out of her padd and placing it on the coffee table next to her cup of tea. "I'm fine. Thank you for asking."

"You're fine," he repeated, trying to keep the skepticism out of his voice. "Then—"

"—why am I avoiding you?" she finished.

He gave a rueful look. "I wasn't going to ask so directly, but...yes."

She ran a hand through her tousled hair, shaking out the knot, and sighed, looking away from him. "What do you want me to say? That I'm embarrassed? Ashamed? Maybe a little afraid? All of the above, really."

Picard winced and took a step toward her chair. "I don't _want_ you to say any of that, Beverly. You shouldn't feel bad about anything that happened."

"Jean-Luc, I tried to resign my commission over some kind of love affair with an anaphasic energy being. Which tried to kill Geordi and Data. And you." Her tone was bitter. "You can see why I might be a little uncomfortable seeing you for awhile."

Something in him ached at hearing the recrimination in her voice. "You didn't ask for any of that to happen. He was controlling you through a biochemical process that meant you were not fully in control of your own actions."

"I'm the doctor, remember? I do understand the clinical explanation," she reminded him, still staring away from him. "My head felt clearer as soon as he...it...was destroyed, except I felt it like a horrible physical loss. It was every bit like being under the influence of a powerful drug."

He nodded, feeling the same anger rising in him that had surfaced when he'd read her report. For the creature to have intentionally made Beverly dependent on it, overriding her free will, infuriated him. Whether or not Felisa had appeared to be happy in spite of its presence, Beverly would never have chosen such a "relationship" without undue influence. If Picard hadn't gone after her, then the Beverly Crusher that he, that Wesley, that all her friends and colleagues knew, loved, and respected—that Beverly Crusher would have been irrevocably changed against her conscious will, would have disappeared from all of their lives. The prospect left him cold.

But it wasn't her fault. Despite the fact that she still had not invited him, Picard crossed the room and sat on the couch across from her, leaning forward, wanting to reassure her. "I am sorry that you experienced that, Beverly. I didn't understand at the time what was going on." He looked at her earnestly. "Even though you were affected, you were strong enough to break free of that influence and you saved all three of us. Nobody faults you at all."

Various emotions played across her face. " _I_ do, Jean-Luc. I can't believe that I let it affect me so strongly. I should have been more in control."

Picard shook his head. "But Beverly, you know that is the very nature of addiction," he pointed out reasonably. "You didn't have any real _choice_ in how strongly it would affect you." He searched her face for acknowledgment of the truth he was speaking, but he could see she still wasn't convinced.

He tried again. "Beverly." At his more firm tone of voice, she finally looked up at him, and in an instant, just as he always had been, he felt himself being drawn in by her eyes. He swallowed once to keep his focus. "I know that you would never have chosen any of this if it weren't for the anaphasic energy influence. Please, believe me when I say that you are not at fault, and you have no reason at all to feel uncomfortable around me." He pressed his lips together and then spoke again. "That _being_ almost had a lasting impact upon our friendship. I would be...distressed if it continued to do so now."

Her expression softened. "I would, too," she admitted. She took a deep breath. "Thank you, Jean-Luc. And I should also thank you for coming to find me on Caldos, by the way."

 _Beverly, I could never have left you_ , he thought, but didn't say. Much as he wanted to touch her—or, truth be told, to pull her into his arms—he was acutely aware of the need to respect the careful boundaries they had always set with each other. To his lasting regret, he had overstepped in that regard two months earlier; he had no desire now to upset this fragile understanding they seemed to have found. Instead, drawing on his long-practiced self-control, he settled for reaching out one hand, grateful when she extended her own. "You're very welcome. But of course," and he attempted to disclaim the seriousness of that decision, "I had to, after all. You were going to leave me in quite a bind with no advance notice to find a new CMO."

She returned his affectionate smile. "I don't know. You could always have promoted Selar or Martin."

"They're not you," he said bluntly. It was probably a bit more honesty than advisable, he remonstrated himself, but at least she didn't pull away.

Beverly squeezed his hand and they sat in silence for a moment before she spoke again.

"I am sorry I hurt you, Jean-Luc." _Again_ , was the unspoken word they both heard.

He shook his head. "I would only be hurt if I thought you were really going to leave the _Enterprise_ without saying goodbye. So," and he cleared his throat, "if you ever do meet a dashing young man who sweeps you off your feet, you'd damned well better introduce him to me first."

His tone was light, but he couldn't _quite_ sell the humor with his eyes. He really didn't know what he'd do if she ever fell in love with someone else and left him behind. Be magnanimous, of course; bury his own feelings away and find a way to be sincerely happy for her. He'd done it before, after all…but that was before Kesprytt. Before she really understood what he felt for her, before he'd had the hope, however fleeting, that his long-sublimated feelings might possibly be reciprocated. From the time they'd returned from that mission, they both understood they would no longer have the option of pretending, when contemplating relationships with others, that there was no deep attraction underlying their own long friendship. Though from the time they'd returned, he'd doubted he ever could contemplate a relationship with anyone else...

Fortunately, she took his words in the spirit they were intended, and replied lightly, "I promise, Jean-Luc." Then she looked at him steadily, and her next words were quiet, deliberate. "But somehow I don't see that ever happening."

Picard studied her blue eyes intently, forgetting to breathe for a moment. It seemed hard to mistake her meaning, but... "No?" he managed finally.

"No," she affirmed. She seemed about to say more, but hesitated and then gave a wistful look instead.

"Well, then," he said quietly. He could certainly accept that for now.

Beverly pulled her hand back and shifted position in her chair to stretch out her legs. "You probably need to get to the bridge."

He couldn't be quite sure, but she sounded as though she didn't want that to be the case. Taking a chance, he replied, "I let Commander Riker know I might be delayed this morning."

"Oh." He felt his heart warm at the hopeful look in her eyes. "Then...would you like to stay for morning tea?"

He nodded. "Yes." Another shared, grateful smile, and he relaxed now that it seemed they would, after all, be able to find their way back together. "Yes, I'd like that very much."

End 4/4


End file.
